


BatIvy: The Rise of Mother Nature

by uhungma



Category: Batman (Movies 1989-1997), Batman - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-13
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2020-12-14 09:21:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21013442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uhungma/pseuds/uhungma
Summary: After the events of Batman & Robin, Barbara Wilson wrestles with her double life as Batgirl, while Poison Ivy unleashes her master plan.(A/N: I've decided to rewrite my original story, as it did not fit with the direction I had intended. I hope you enjoy the story as it unfolds and climaxes.)





	1. Rumble in the Jungle!

“Gotta go…so many people to kill, so little time!”

Letting out a laughter of happiness, Poison Ivy regains her control, and her pleasure. As much as she wants to enjoy the suffering of the Bat inflicted by her many obedient sentient vines creeping on the ceiling, she knew has no time to spare for her own desires to be fulfilled. As she declared her rush in purging the world of humankind for flora, she experienced an orgasm, breaking her pitch of laughter, as she attempted to keep focus. Keeping her eyes on “Bat-face”, she lowers her hands, although maintained her hands of worship.

_I am worthy of worship, and I will win._

Lowering her hands completely, Poison Ivy resumes her escape…

_I have enraptured Bat-face and Bird-brain in my love. My trap worked. Now, Phase 2._

Poison Ivy was clad in a secondary skin: an anatomically correct rubber latex suit of crimson that hugs her perfect ivory complexion, with a collar of ivies and her wrists of razor-sharp thorns. Her legs are enhanced with black leather boots heels, with thorns extending out at the back of her legs. Her Ivy belt, with a red Ivy symbol, wraps around her torso. Her facial complexion remains minimal of makeup, with red and orange eyeshadow accentuating her venomous nature, in addition to her nails. Finally, her hair is styled to represent two pistils, the female reproductive part of a flower.

She remains confident and evil, as she heads towards the exit, dreaming of her Eden coming to fruition.

_I am Gaia! I am Mother Nature!_

_Nature always win!_

CRASH!

Ivy looks up, a face of shock registering towards the source of the sound.

A black figure descends from the expanse, through a circular window, towards her garden. Glass shatters, falling onto the plants…hurting them. As she lands, Ivy takes note of her appearance: her blonde hair, her Bat costume, her black heels, and her eyemask blocking a part of her face.

The stranger looks defiantly at Ivy, angry eyes meeting her own. Yet, Ivy smiles.

“You’re about to become compost!”

Ivy throws her first kick, missing the blonde. She kicks and kicks, until an unexpected casualty catches her off-guard: her babies!

_No!_ Ivy’s hands, on instinct, rushes to grasp her babies. Taking her chance, the heroine kicks a distracted Ivy, and Ivy hits the ground, breathless and wondering what just happened.

“Using feminine wiles to get what you want. Trading on your looks…”

Ivy smirks with glee, relishing every accusation from the female Bat as praise. Her form of worship from the nocturnal pests, and she delighted in it. Ivy smiles.

“Read a book, sister. That passive-aggressive number went out long ago. Chicks like you give woman a bad name.”

Ivy reacts to the female Bat’s attack, rolling to the right. In an attempt to defend herself, she grabs a nearby vine, and uses it like a whip. Although inexperienced, Ivy swings with as much haste as possible, increasing the distance between herself and the female Bat. She swings, with as much desperation as possible, longing for a miracle.

_Mother Nature, help your daughter! Liberate me!_

Suddenly, Ivy’s vines caught onto the opponent’s leg, causing her to fall. Ivy smiles.

“As I told Lady Freeze when I pulled her plug…THIS IS A ONE-WOMAN SHOW!”

Ivy bloats with glee, knowing she will win in the end. However, the blonde merely shrugs it off.

“I don’t think so.”

The female Bat retracts her leg, pulling the vine and Ivy’s balance along with it. Ivy dives, avoiding any impact to the ground, over her enemy. She turns back, preparing her defense from the blonde.

_Time to end this._

From her boots, Ivy reveals her blade, smiling. She uses it as a mirror, reflecting her good looks, remembering the disheveled look of her hair, before sternly facing the source of the dishevelment.

She swings…and swings…

Until the blade went loose, kicked by the Bat-Bitch!

Ivy’s face turned to horror, her weapon flying in the air. _NO!_

_Ahh!_

All of a sudden, she feels a kick to her torso, leaving her breathless!

_Ohh!_

And finally, a kick to her head, as Ivy lost focus, flying into the air…landing into her baby!

Ivy lands, reacts with fear over her predicament.

“CURSES!”

Ivy screams. Mother Nature has lost!

Ivy cries, and cries, until she had no energy. Her kicks gradually gets slower, until her legs are motionless.

The last thing Ivy could hear brought a glimpse of joy.

“Bruce, it’s me: Barbara!”

Ivy smiles, and she dives towards the emptiness.


	2. Arkham Abode

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poison Ivy's life in Arkham Asylum.

_Arkham Asylum: Poison Ivy. Patient Interview #1_

Dr. Stephen Kellerman: Patient Interview. Pamela Lillian Isley. Supervising doctor: Doctor Stephen Kellerman. Patient has been incarcerated for one week, and is deemed fit for psycho-analysis.

Dr. Stephen Kellerman: Good morning, Pamela! How are you doing today?

Pamela Lillian Isley:

Dr. Stephen Kellerman: Is something the matter, Pamela? You seem unresponsive.

Pamela Lillian Isley:

Dr. Stephen Kellerman: Pamela-

Pamela Lillian Isley: Ivy.

Dr. Stephen Kellerman: Sorry?

Pamela Lillian Isley: Ivy. My name is Poison Ivy.

Dr. Stephen Kellerman: No, your name is Pamela Lillian Isley. It’s stated in your birth certificate.

Pamela Lillian Isley: She’s dead.

Dr. Stephen Kellerman: You’re here. Do you feel dead?

Pamela Lillian Isley: Oh, my dear Stephen, you’re so naïve. You think I’m like the rest of criminals in this place. You think I’m human, and just like every human you have ever faced in your worthless mistake of a life you led.

Dr. Stephen Kellerman: Now, now, Dr. Isley. No need for-

Pamela Lillian Isley: IVY! MY NAME IS POISON IVY, AND I AM MOTHER NATURE INCARNATE! I WILL NOT TOLERATE YOUR FOOLISH PSYCHOANALYSIS, LET ALONE YOUR CONDESCENDING ATTITUDE TOWARDS GAIA HERSELF, AS YOU ARE IN HER PRESENCE!

Dr. Stephen Kellerman: (clears throat) I think that will be all for today. Guards!

(Tape ends)

* * *

Two guards, armed with batons, transported Poison Ivy back to her cell. She was strapped to a hand truck, legs and hands bound, with a face guard covering her luscious lips.

According to Arkham, Poison Ivy was their most powerful and dangerous inmate, and she relished the title bestowed upon her. To her, fear is power, even in an insane asylum; no one dares to perform abuse and inhumane acts upon someone, who in a whim of frenzy, can kill with just any part of her body.

_Isley’s vessel is my weapon._

Ivy laughs at this fact, convinced that she is in control, even within a male-dominated habitat.

She enjoys the service provided to her, currently the Queen of Arkham.

_But then again, it may be because of her first night, and the coldness it drags…_

* * *

Poison Ivy was dressed in a drab Arkham garment, a standard uniform given to every insane mental patient that resides in these gothic halls. Her hair, fiery red pistils, now was rumpled and faded to magenta. Her ostentatious makeup has now faded from her perfect complexion; her vivid nails now devoid of all color. She was a wilted rose. She was vulnerable.

She was fully human once more. At least, for now.

And she hates it.

Every step taken to her cot, Ivy remembers the pain inflicted on her babies. How one kick sends a vase of flowers crashing to the ground, killing them almost instantly. How her sharp needle bracelets pierced the fragile petals of her plant throne.

And the screams…oh, the piercing, wailing screams of their suffering.

_I’m sorry, my darling._

As she sits on her cot, Ivy’s hands creep, moving down from her plump accentuated breasts to the vaginal opening of her clitoris.

_I had to protect you from the evil, from Gotham itself._

Her hand enters, crawling inside, furtively searching for something.

_I don’t want to be alone, again._

Ivy pulls her arm back, ecstatic and hopeful of company. As her hand reappears, a crimson flower unfolds, followed by a long stem.

_My baby._

Ivy takes the flower close to her lips, caressing her child’s touch, giving her baby a kiss. Her eyes glows of green, passion longing for a keepsake of her Eden.

_I’ve missed you._

Her fingers gripped onto a petal, strong feelings of longing felt through her strength.

“He loves me.”

Ivy pulls the petal, relishing and lamenting the screams of her child.

“He loves me not.”

Ivy pulls another petal, quickly engaging in her game of love.

“He loves me. He loves me not.”

As every petal falls to the ground, Ivy feels a sense of authority. After all, her babies should die for her.

“He loves me…”

Ivy’s tongue awaits the petal’s touch…

“NOT!”

Ivy looks up, and her eyes widen at the presence of the abominable snowman. A blue hue envelopes him, the harsh cold reckoning of the ice man radiating throughout the cell.

_My hero!_

“Surprise, I am your new cell mate!”

Ivy laughs, happy and sinister. She knows Mr. Freeze will liberate her from this hellhole.

“And I’ve come to make your life a living hell.”

Ivy’s smile dropped, replaced by a sense of shock. For the first time, she felt fear.

_He knows!_

“Prepare for a bitter harvest. Winter…is coming at last.”

Ivy’s face remains in shock, her body frozen perpetually in fear…

* * *

Ivy lets out a pitiful laugh as they approached her cell. As much as she tried, she could not remember the aftermath of the coming winter. Perhaps it was pity that saved her, or perhaps a guard saw what happened and came to her aid reluctantly…perhaps Freeze merely just wanted to scare her, expose her as a woman who fears rather than fearless.

However, she’d like to believe that it was the Batman and his sidekicks that saved her fragile life. She would like to believe that the Batman still longs for herself. Craves for her. Devoted to her. Loves her.

_No one can resist Mother Nature._

Ivy’s cell was just like any other cell in Arkham. Its wall made with reinforced steel, hidden behind a brick-layered wall. A window with metal bars provided access to the outside world, viewable only when standing. Her bed was merely a metal frame with a white sheet on top. There was no bathroom, but only a sink providing access to fresh clean water needed for survival.

The guards let loose her restraints, afraid of any form of retaliation regardless of her lithe size. However, Ivy merely complied, stepping back into her “home”, a pleasantness sweeping her once more. She breathed, smelling a faint aroma of her excrement that was once smeared along its wall and floor. It wasn’t her home, but it feels like her home.

_Well, I’ve certainly decorated my humble abode. No place like home._

Ivy walks to her bed, and slowly lies down. Her mind races to the memory of her battle with the female Bat. Her short blonde hair, her eyes, her lips, the mole near her lips; Ivy remembers every detail of her enemy.

_Shame. The things we could’ve work towards._

As Ivy closes her eyes, her hands crawled towards her vagina. She sticks her finger into it, pleasuring herself. She moans, her breath gradually increases in pace, but never in volume to avoid self-drawn attention.

_The only one who can provide pleasure is oneself. No man, or woman, can._

She enjoys even the briefest moment of privacy to indulge in herself, remembering herself, and pleasuring herself. It was hard to find substitutes of entertainment. Even her child, though accompanied her to Arkham, wasn’t deemed worthy enough for human pleasure.

_Soon, my plan shall move on…and Mother Nature will win in the end._

Ivy soon enters into sleep, the wind howling near her window.

_Winter shall pass, and Gaia shall arrive once more._

* * *

“Mr. Wayne. I have an appointment with Quincy Sharp.”  
  


“Yes, of course. Let me check his availability.”

Dressed in a black business suit and pants, Bruce Wayne straightens his red tie, pondering the predicament he is in. He has no idea why Quincy Sharp has requested his presence. He was sure that this definitely wasn’t a Board meeting, considering the personal appointment.

Most importantly, Quincy forcefully told him that the Wayne philanthropy will be strictly financial and not strategic. Surprising, Bruce was happy with plausible deniability, considering Arkham Asylum’s questionable practices. Although he has his reservations, Bruce already has too much on his plate with Wayne Enterprises and Batman. As such, Bruce was accepting towards his role as an executive board member of Arkham Asylum.

As Bruce ponders over the purpose of the meeting, the secretary returns.

“Warden Sharp will see you now, Mr. Wayne.”

Bruce extends a curt nod and a “Thank You”, and proceeds to make his way towards the Warden’s office.

The Warden’s office was a vivid mixture of gothic and haute couture. Dark eerie walls decorated its gaudy arrangement of ROXY armchairs, LITH tables, and an organ-like golden fireplace as its centerpiece. When asked about his questionable choices of office luxury, Warden Sharp would argue that the disconnect causes discomfort among guests and critics, honing the advantage on behalf of Arkham Asylum’s strategic goals. Others concede the office as a façade of Quincy Sharp himself, as he refuses to share his mysterious past, save for the board and other high-interest parties.

However, as Bruce steps into and observes the office before him, he knew Quincy did it just because he could. After all, the reflection of power extends towards one’s environment, and Quincy is a prideful man.

The Warden himself could really care less. It was merely self-indulgence.

A bottle of Merlot, along with a wine glass full of wine, rests on the table. Warden Sharp, with another wine glass in his hand, looks out the wide window. Upon hearing footsteps, he turns and walks towards the biggest donor of Arkham Asylum.

The Warden holds out his hand, smiling.

“Very nice of you to accept my invitation, Mr. Wayne.”

Bruce’s hand grasps Quincy’s, and gives a cold firm handshake.

“I’m very glad to have been invited. However, the nature of it is perplexing to me.”

Warden Sharp drinks, a large gulp of wine entering his mouth, and leads Bruce to the armchairs.

“The nature of this meeting is to discuss about the treatment of Dr. Pamela Lillian Isley, or Poison Ivy. Ever since the Batman and his sidekicks brought her to justice, she has refused to cooperate, and instead chooses to be distant from reality. Here’s a snippet from the second interview.”

From his suit jacket, Warden Sharp grabs a tape player, places it on the table, and presses play.

Pamela Lillian Isley: “I AM MOTHER NATURE! DO YOU UNDERSTAND, YOU FILTHY MEATSACK? YOU-----”

Warden Sharp stops the player. “Pamela became aggressive after this point, starting to attack Dr. Kellerman with her bare hands. Guards were called in to restrain her, amidst her surprising strength.”

Warden Sharp takes a sip from his wine glass, calming himself down before continuing on.

“She insists that she be called Poison Ivy, insisting she IS Mother Nature. She refuses treatment.”

“I don’t see how this relates to me, Quincy.”

Warden Sharp sighs. _I’m going to regret this._

“I know we have our disagreements, Bruce. I know I told you not to be involved in Arkham, and I know you have questionable doubts over my methods. However, I need this problem fixed without the board knowing of its existence in the first place. I know you’re a good man, Bruce. I need your advice. I need…your help.”

Bruce’s eyes lit up, a smirk forming on his face. He knows he could not pass up the chance for direct involvement towards the future of Arkham. Additionally, he also knows he could not pass up the chance to tell Quincy “I told you so”, maintaining his authority both financially and strategically.

“I have a psychiatrist up for recommendation. I’ll give a call to the good doctor for this task, on the condition that I now have direct influence over the future of Arkham. My concerns lie for the people of Gotham, including Arkham’s influence. I’m sure you understand, Quincy, that it’s not my job to tell you how to do your job, but since you asked, I’ll offer my services.”

“Yes, of course. How are you sure he will get the job done?”

“Well, for one, it’s a she. Also, I’m always sure.”

Bruce drinks the rest of the wine, relishing every second of the moment as a victory much to Sharp’s grimace. After finishing, he places the wine glass on the table, and extends his hand to Quincy.

Warden Sharp returns the handshake. The two men’s grip lessens, as both benefits from Poison Ivy.

Bruce then heads for the door, while Warden Sharp continues his drink. Suffice it to say, both parties will never speak of this incident publicly, preserving their precious egos.

* * *

A week after the second interview, a gorgeous blonde woman enters Arkham Asylum. She was dressed in the same red coat she wore in her previous visit. Hidden behind her coat is a black lace nightie, an unorthodox choice for a formal visit. An umbrella hanging on one arm, and a purse on another. Her feet were dressed with black high heels.

She sultrily made her way to the receptionist, and offered her name.

“Dr. Chase Meridian, Dr. Isley’s new psychiatrist. Here to see Mr. Sharp.”


	3. The Obsession of Barbara Wilson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the midst of worrying over Alfred, Barbara reflects on her battle with Poison Ivy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please remember to give kudos and comment! :D

Within the Batcave, an echo hails the arrival of the heroes of Gotham, as their vehicles roars through the long driveway to the Batcave. The Batmobile revs its way to the core of the Batcave, an exuberant palette of colours reflect upon every crevasse. On its side, the Redbird and the Bat-cycle compliments the triumphant return, as they drive alongside the Batmobile.

The Batcave is a literal one: a cavern full of bats hanging above, a reminder of Bruce Wayne’s biggest fear from his youthful naïve days. He still remembers it to this day: when he was a young boy, he fell into a cave. Although he was saved by Alfred and his parents, the last thing he remembered was the first image he processed after the fall: the image of a bat, grotesque and scary, flying towards him.

Thanks to his fear, Bruce Wayne transfers his fear into heroism, and throughout his years of defending Gotham has gained a family of his own. A family that has now increased by one who has saved his life. He could never admit it, but he is thankful. Now, Gotham is safe, except for one Alfred Pennyworth, and Bruce hopes he’s not too late.

Bruce disembarks the Batmobile, heading towards the entrance to Wayne Manor. Sporting a look of anxiety and hope, he runs, amidst the weight of his costume.

“Change your costumes first. I’ll inject Alfred with the cure first.”

Barbara looked with worry, leaving her Bat-cycle.

_Fight it, Uncle Alfred! We’re here._

“Don’t worry, Barb. We got the cure. He’ll pull through.”

Barbara merely nods, aware of her own worthlessness within this situation. She walks over to the changing room, intent on looking her best.

_Alfred will not want me to look like I’m visiting his deathbed. He’ll live…he’ll live._

Barbara clicks the lock on the door. A mirror hangs on the wall of the changing room, and a chair is situated, in which her clothes remain stationary on the chair since changing into her Batgirl costume.

She starts to pull the zipper on her costume, the high heel boots first and then the main costume. As she changes, she starts to appreciate the details on her costume: a fine black varnish on her rubber costume, blades extending out of the arms, a Bat cowl that fits perfectly on her face, and the Bat belt with all her gadgets that she hoped to use in the future. She leaves the costume hanging on the hangers in the changing room, and wears a grey t-shirt and blue pyjama pants.

After her change, Barbara looks at her reflection, and with a smile, admires her look.

_Man, I love my costume. I love my look, but…_

However, Barbara remembers the most beautiful woman she has ever met, and perhaps unfortunately her first archenemy. She remembers Ivy’s ostentatious hairstyle, her sultry voice, her perfect breasts, her eyeshadow, her face...her lips. Those gorgeous lips.

_But Ivy is an actual goddess. Mother Nature, as she claims…so sexy. The femme fatale._

Barbara’s mind drifted to her first battle. As she stood over Ivy, Barbara remembers Ivy’s confident look on her face…she remembers her smile. Her seductive, beautiful smile…

_So lovely…_

Barbara’s hand drifted below her waist, and into her pants. She imagines Ivy lying down on the flat earth, wearing the same revealing costume she fought in, her lips curved into the same smile she expressed, her eyes gazing upwards…beckoning her to lie down next to her. Close to her. She imagines Ivy’s words as she speaks to her.

_I want you, lover…_

As Barbara’s hand drifted to her target, reality snaps as a knock on the door prompted her hand to slip back out before the perverse deed is done.

“Barbara, are you okay?”

_NO! What am I doing? Alfred is up there, waiting for me. I have to tend to him._

Barbara shakes the perverse thoughts off her mind, focusing on the present.

_Till next time, Ivy…_

Barbara unclicks the lock off the changing room, and sees Dick in his Robin costume, an apprehensive look on his face.

“Dick, what happened?”

“Nothing…I was just worried about you, Barbara. You were in the changing room for a while. Are you okay?”

Upon returning to the reality of the situation, Barbara turns her gaze to the door, scared to face her frail Uncle Alfred. Robin approaches her, and his hand holds on to her.

“Let’s face it together, Barb.”

Barbara’s eyes shot up at Dick’s. Her eyes were a combination of melancholy and calmness.

“But…your costume?”

“It’s okay, Barb. I’ll change it later.”

With that conviction, the two sidekicks walk up the stairs, poised as they approach their frail old Alfred.

* * *

The doors to Alfred’s room opened, as Dick and Barbara walk hand in hand, eager and afraid to see him.

Alfred was lying in his bed, an IV attached to him. On the side, Bruce attaches the tube containing Mr. Freeze’s antidote, hoping that it will cure Alfred of Stage 1 of McGregor’s Syndrome. His looks did not betray any inner emotions, but Barbara could tell that Bruce wanted to be strong for all of them. Whatever pain he registers throughout the situation, he has not let it slip.

Barbara’s steps remain small and closeted. She wishes Alfred had never gotten sick during her time within Gotham, yet she would have to face the reality close. Ever since she came back, Barbara had wanted to be his hero, that whatever the Dynamic Duo has done to her Uncle Alfred, that she would take him away from his prison, and live not as a slave but as his own master. At least, that’s what she wanted upon first impressions of both Bruce Wayne and Dick Grayson.

However, after what has transpired tonight, Barbara’s views began to shift, and after seeing the glee on Alfred’s face, despite his sickness, when mentioning his biggest joy in life, she believes that this is the best place for Alfred, for better or worse. Helping the Batman. Helping Robin. Keeping Gotham safe.

Though Alfred has appointed her to give the compact disc to the Dynamic Duo, Barbara’s confusion ultimately led to her inception as Batgirl. Thanks to her, Poison Ivy is defeated, and she has saved the Dynamic Duo from their almost-untimely death by suffocation.

_I definitely need to apologise to Alfred later_, Barbara thinks.

Barbara quickly approaches Alfred, staying close to him. She leans on the wall, tired due to the events that transpired tonight. She looked at Alfred, her face hopeless. She knows she cannot do anything else but wait for the cure to hopefully heal him.

She hated being in this position.

“And now…we wait.”

Bruce’s words lend a sense of finality within the situation, good or bad. Barbara lets out a sigh, her heart in acceptance.

* * *

The door to Alfred’s room closes, as the three heroes head down to the Batcave. Bruce and Dick head to the changing rooms, detaching their Batman and Robin costumes. Barbara sits on a chair near the Bat-computer, thinking of her battle with Ivy.

In a sense, Barbara sympathizes with Ivy. She remembers her screams as her flower enraptures her. She wishes she could pull her out of it, and cuff her after. If only…

“Barbara!”

Once again, Barbara snaps back to reality and turns towards Bruce and Dick.

“Yes, Bruce?”

“Are you okay, Barbara? You’ve been like this throughout the night?”

Barbara shifts in her demeanour, leading Robin to smirk as he makes his guess.

“You’re thinking about Ivy, aren’t you?”

A faint blush arises.

“No, I’m not.”

“Then you’re thinking about me, aren’t you?”

“Definitely not.”

Knowing the issue won’t go away, Barbara admits defeat.

“Well, she’s beautiful, isn’t she?”

“Yes, Barbara. Pretty Poison Ivy.”

“Point taken, but that doesn’t change the fact.”

“Ahem, we almost died.”

Bruce lets out a deep sigh. The price of having sidekicks, he thought.

“Alright, Dick. You’re not exactly helping her to understand—”

“What is there to understand, Bruce? I’m just commenting on her beauty.”

“Is that all there is to it?”

“Yes, Bruce. I’m saying that Ivy is beautiful, nothing else.”

No words are spoken. An understand is reached between master and apprentice. However, Bruce is no ordinary master.

“Dick, mind if Barbara and I have a private chat?”

“Sure Bruce. I’ll go tend to Alfred.”

Dick looks towards Barbara, and gives an encouraging smile and a cautious stare, before walking the stairs out of the Batcave.

Bruce grabs a chair and sits down next to Barbara. Barbara watched as Bruce accesses the Bat-computer, pulling up the file of one Doctor Pamela Lillian Isley. The screen illuminates as two distinct holograms appear on the left and right side of the screen, with a multitude of words in the middle.

“Barbara, this is your first night as a hero. Unlike Dick, I’m glad you had no personal stake in this; the first time he put on the suit, he craves for vengeance. For that, I’m satisfied that your primary objective was pure heroism. Good job.”

Barbara slightly nods, fearful of what comes next.

“However, since you’re going to be putting on the cowl and costume, you need to remember that there are two sides: good and bad. Though appealing bad can be, they are still villains in the end. Poison Ivy is no exception. However, Robin’s narrow-minded perspective of good and evil isn’t the model to follow; rather, Barbara, we should try to understand the best we could the origin of evil and help the villains we face, the best we can.”  
  


Bruce, sensing Barbara’s fears, decides to sympathise with her.

“Now Barbara, I understand that you did not have time to look over every information regarding Mr. Freeze and Poison Ivy, as you urgently came to our rescue. As such, I don’t blame you for not understanding Poison Ivy entirely, and deduce that your infatuation towards her is based solely on first impressions rather than disregarding her villainy. Therefore, I’ve brought up the information regarding Poison Ivy, a.k.a. Doctor Pamela Lillian Isley, should you be interested in understanding more about her. I’ll set up a Bat-computer account for you soon.”

Bruce gets up, his hand grasping Barbara’s shoulder.

“Feel free to read up on her. It’s always important to understand the villain’s perspective. Who knows, you may encounter her once more should she escape.”

As Bruce starts to head towards the stairs, Barbara’s question became his focus once more.

“Bruce. What made you expand your perception on good and evil?”

“Frankly, Barbara, let’s just say a cat got my tongue when thinking that there were only two absolutes in life. Perhaps a kiss from a rose may be the cause of your perception as well.

Bruce gives a knowing wink at her, smiles, and then exits the Batcave.

Unsure of Bruce’s words, Barbara turns to the screen, and starts to look at the information regarding Poison Ivy. Specifically, Barbara looks at a few key points:

**Hometown: Seattle**

** Education: **

**-Doctor of Philosophy in Botany, the University of Washington**

**-Bachelor of Science in Molecular, Cellular, & Developmental Biology, the University of Washington**

** Work Experience: **

**-South American Arboreal Preservation Project, Wayne Enterprises (Supervisor: Doctor Jason Woodrue)**

_I owe her an apology: she’s definitely read a lot more books than I have. She’s a genius!_

Her attention now drifted towards a hologram of her civilian appearance, noticing the differences between that of her Ivy appearance. One detail Barbara cannot deny: under all that disguise, Ivy is still beautiful.

Her civilian appearance consists of a green turtleneck and a green & brown coat, complete with a long skirt and dull brown heels. Yet, Barbara could see no difference in appearance between both sides of her identity, but rather note the distinctive traits in both: her green eyes, her long yet pointy nose, and yet again her beautiful lips.

Yet the question still remains: _Why give up on her career as a successful botanist? Why use her powers for bad instead of good? Why dedicate towards a life of villainy?_

_Why Poison Ivy? Why, Poison Ivy?_

Nothing seems to answer this question, as Barbara ponders about Ivy.

* * *

Bruce Wayne, wearing a white shirt covered by a black hoodie and black pants, stands outside Alfred’s room, unwilling to see the result yet doesn’t want to abandon Alfred.

_I’ll take over when Dick gets tired_, Bruce thought.

Amidst of all the waiting, Bruce hears footsteps, and turns his head to see Barbara running towards him.

“Bruce, we need to go to Arkham.”

“Barbara, what’s wrong?”

“I think Ivy’s in danger. We have to save Ivy.”


	4. Chasing the Ivy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chase Meridian gains an audience with Poison Ivy, and new faces emerge.

This was not how Chase Meridian pictured her day would go.

A meeting with Bruce Wayne: Sure. Ever since the Riddler has been incarcerated in Arkham Asylum, Chase has not seen the illustrious billionaire and protector of Gotham for a while. Although she knew that Bruce Wayne’s schedule is occupied with his dual identity, Chase wished that he could have visited her at least once.

So, it was a surprise that the CEO of Wayne Enterprises would contact her one day, asking to meet up at her office. For this special occasion, Chase dressed in her casual sport outfit: a black sports vest and a black jogging pants. As before, she was exercising, hitting the punching bag, ridding of all anger that would have been directed at Bruce for not visiting-nay, not caring, about her.

The doors open, and a well-dressed man enters.

“Bruce…fancy seeing you after all this time.”

The infamous billionaire remains confident, yet Chase could see in his eyes the hesitation and anxiousness, irregular for a powerful man.

_Seems like an ask more than a date._

“Chase...nice to see you too. May we have a seat at your table?”

Chase simply nods, not wanting to make a potential lover feel more uncomfortable with the subject of this meeting. She removes her boxing gloves, unravels the gauze wrapped along her hands, and sits. She smiles, making Bruce more relaxed.

Bruce sits opposite to her, smiling as well. He knows it’s been too long since their last meeting, when he asks Chase to deduce whether Edward Nygma, a.k.a. The Riddler, knows his secret identity as the Batman. After Chase confirms Nygma’s delusion of himself being the Batman, Bruce sighs with relief, and that was the last time they have ever spoken. In defense, he has indeed been busy as both managing Wayne Enterprises and defending Gotham, and now with the recent attack from Mr. Freeze and Poison Ivy, the latter in which is the subject of their meeting today.

“I think I’ll just cut to the chase.”  
  


Chase laughs, sensing Bruce’s attempt at lightening the mood.

“Intentional?”

Bruce smirks as else.

“Perhaps. It’s a grand pursuit after all.”

Chase smiles once more, intrigued at what Bruce’s intentions may be. “Fine, I’ll give you a listen. Continue.”

Bruce nods. _Sooner or later_.

“First, I would like to apologize for ghosting you. My recent endeavors in running Wayne Enterprises and protecting Gotham have been taxing, despite the inclusion of the young acrobat you’ve seen before under…unfortunate circumstances.”

Chase smirks. _At least you were aware…and are decent enough to apologize._

“Yeah, yeah I understand. I’ve been an asshole to you, Chase. For that, I’m sorry.”

“Aww, Bruce. Don’t degrade yourself like that. You’re the same man I admire and love. The fact that you told me your secret reaffirms my belief, and makes me feel closer to you. I’m glad you apologize first. For that, I forgive you, Bruce Wayne.”

Bruce’s smile largens. He feels elated, happy that Chase truly understands and accepts his complex identity.

“Now tell me what you want, Mr. Wayne.”

Bruce sighs once more. He knows this feeling wouldn’t last forever.

“The second reason I’m here, Dr. Meridian, is because I want you to perform your duties upon a certain patient you may have seen on the news. Poison Ivy. Dr. Pamela Lillian Isley. I’ll pay you double your asking fee.”

Chase raises his hand, interrupting Bruce’s ask, clear of her answer before letting him finish.

“I’ll do it for my standard fee, with two conditions: privacy, and free rein in the interview.”

Bruce smirks. He guesses correctly that Chase will be interested in this. He also guesses correctly of her conditions in accepting his favor. If there’s one thing he knows about Chase, it’s that she’s her own woman. A perfect match against Poison Ivy, the femme fatale of Gotham.

“Done. I’ll deliver you a contract on behalf of Arkham Asylum. Shall we shake on it?”

Chase gets up and heads towards her drink cabinet, opening it to reveal an assortment of alcohols.

“Let’s drink to it instead. What would you prefer, Mr. Wayne?”

* * *

Dr. Chase Meridian enters the Warden’s office, eager to meet her subject promptly.

The Warden takes a sip from his alcoholic drink of the day, a scotch on the rocks, as he leans against his drink cabinet. A contract can be found on the Warden’s table, alongside a brown manila envelope.

“Before you are to start your work, please kindly sign the contract Dr. Meridian. After your signature is present and permanent, please find the items you need in the manila envelope: Arkham ID Badge which grants full access, a tape recorder and tape, a notepad, a pen, and a taser.”

Chase, ignoring the Warden’s glance, marches to the table.

“Mr. Wayne specifically mentions that you’ll be in charge of tape storage and that you prefer to work within your own office. Most unorthodox, but apparently your professional reputation is valuable enough to guarantee an accurate professional opinion, even when operating outside protocol. In addition, your professional reputation also buys you any other request, but mind you, please inform Mr. Wayne of those said requests as well.”

She grabs the pen next to the contract and peruses it.

“It’s been read over by Mr. Wayne and his corporate lawyers, Doctor.”

“I know. But I want to read it.”

After a few minutes of reading the whole contract, Chase signs her signature. She then puts down the pen and grabs the envelope, opening it and observing the items within.

After all items are in order, Chase nods towards the Warden, and heads back out.

“Warden, whose idea was the taser? You or Bruce?”

The Warden chuckles.

“Both, actually. Use it with care. The last thing I need is another controversy, not after what happened recently.”

“Understood, and thank you, Warden.”

“Care for a drink, Dr. Meridian?”

“No thank you Warden, I’m on duty. Now, I would like to meet Doctor Pamela Lillian Isley.”

* * *

Chase was led by two guards to an interrogation room.

As guaranteed by the Warden, privacy is enforced. No security cameras, no recorders. Only her and Dr. Isley.

Chase takes her items out from both her purse and the manila envelope she was given. A pen, a notebook, a voice recorder, and recording tapes.

_This is it. Time to see why Bruce Wayne gave this assignment to me._

Chase’s eyes glance towards the door, as it revealed Doctor Pamela Lillian Isley, unkempt, dressed in prison garbs. Her hair was a mess, her makeup equally a mess. Yet, Chase realizes that the woman wasn’t exactly a regular Arkham inmate.

_Hmm…there’s something…different …about this woman. Otherworldly, perhaps._

Two guards stood at the door, poised, waiting for Poison Ivy to sit at the table opposite of Dr. Meridian. Poison Ivy…no, Dr. Isley, stands up straight and holds her head high, as she approaches the table. She never breaks her gaze towards Dr. Meridian, and she never stops smiling.

As Dr. Isley sits across from her, Chase couldn’t help but regards two distinctive physical traits: her glowing green eyes…and her ruby red lips.

_She must be a formidable opponent…interesting._

“Guard, remove her cuffs please.”

“Dr. Meridian, she—”

“Will be my responsibility. Thank you for your concern, but I’m sure Dr. Isley will be most cooperative. Right?”

Dr. Isley stares at her, bewildered. _Who is this lady? Does she not know who I am?_

Chase smirks, knowing that she has caught Dr. Isley by surprise.

“Right…Ivy?”, Chase whispers, intending for only her target to hear.

Dr. Isley, taken aback, merely nods. She remains deep in thought, pondering over this unexpected meeting.

_Well, well, she seems interesting. Let’s see what she’s up to, and best her at her game._

The guard, remaining stoic, takes the keys and uncuffs Dr. Isley, his gaze never leaving the plant lady.

“Very well, Dr. Meridian. She’s all yours.”

  
Chase smiles and nods confidently, assuaging the guard’s fear and that of her own.

“If you need anything, just yell for us. At least one of us will be outside guarding. And don’t even think about escaping, Pamela Isley. The doors can only be operated on the outside.”

Dr. Isley sticks her tongue out at the guard in disgust, before the door is shut.

Dr. Isley returns her gaze to Chase, her smile widening.

“I wonder, Dr. Meridian, what tricks are you up to?”

Chase laughs, unexpected to Dr. Isley. She then brings up her purse and grabs one more item, revealing Ivy’s switchblade, its design and colors instantly recognizable to Dr. Isley.

“Stand up, Dr. Isley.”, Chase shouts in a commanding manner.

Dr. Isley, startled, immediately obeys, much to her reluctance.

Upon seeing her stand up, Chase does the same, and walks to her until she is in front.

Immediately, Dr. Isley recognizes Dr. Meridian’s choice of clothing: a black lace nightie with black high heels. She remains surprised, aroused even, as to her choice of clothing.

_Why would a professional wear such revealing seductive clothing?_

Chase stares at Dr. Isley, staring into her emerald eyes. Minutes pass, and both women remain motionless. Dr. Isley stares just as intense as her psychiatrist, although she starts to feel uncomfortable.

Chase approaches closer to Dr. Isley, her breasts intimately touching Dr. Isley’s breasts.

Dr. Isley feels Dr. Meridian’s breath on her face, wanting to lose, yet her pride refuses.

_No! I will not lose to the doctor. Mother Nature does not lose._

Sensing Dr. Isley’s reluctance, Chase smirks and breaks her gaze, instead focusing on the switchblade in her hand. She then grabs Dr. Isley’s hand and passes her the switchblade.

Dr. Isley’s eyes widen, staring back at Dr. Meridian with a look of surprise. Her eyes widen even more when Dr. Meridian places the blade near her heart.

“Dr. Isley, my life is in your hands right now. If your heart desires it, push the switchblade towards my heart. End my life if you want.”

Dr. Isley looks towards Dr. Meridian, an expression of bewilderment once again on her face.

_Nobody tells Mother Nature what to do!_

_Yet, nobody…would be willing to give their life back to Mother Nature. Yet, she is willing._

_This is all a trick by her, and yet, why am I willing to fall for it?_

_Why this woman? Could she be the one to truly understand me?_

After several minutes passed at what seems like several hours, Dr. Isley drops the blade.

“Please, call me Ivy or Pamela, Dr. Meridian.”

“Well then, Ivy, I insist you call me Chase.”

Ivy smiles, and sits back on the chair. Chase kneels down, grabbing the switchblade; she then retreats to her seat, an understanding smile on her face.

“So, Chase, what would you like to discuss during this interview?”

“Before we start, Pamela, I would like you to know that the people privy to the interview and its contents are me and you. My professional opinion would either grant you parole, or it will change nothing. Now, the contents of the interview are up to you, Pamela, and I think you know what I need to hear and therefore what Arkham expects from you.”

Ivy stares at the table, her fingers fidgeting, thinking of the topic to start with.

“It’s your choice, Ivy.”

Making up her mind, Ivy looks back at Chase, a determined look on her face.

“I’m ready, Chase.”

* * *

_Arkham Asylum: Poison Ivy. Patient Interview #3_

Dr. Chase Meridian: Patient Interview: Pamela Lillian Isley. Supervising doctor: Doctor Chase Meridian, on special appointment. Patient has been incarcerated for a month, and is deemed fit for psycho-analysis. However, patient has been uncooperative and aggressive within the previous two interviews, the most recent interview resulting in patient resisting with force. To mitigate the risks associated, patient has been placed under extensive restraints, and the interviews will continue with a new doctor, i.e. yours truly, under Arkham senior management approval.

Dr. Chase Meridian: So…Pamela, anything on your mind today?

Dr. Pamela Isley: Well, Chase, I’ve been in Arkham for a while, and during that time, I’ve been thinking of the events that led to me being here right now.

Dr. Chase Meridian: You mean your transformation into Poison Ivy?

Dr. Pamela Isley: Well, we’ll get to that later, hopefully. For now, I would like to talk about my childhood.

  
Dr. Chase Meridian: Okay. You have my attention, Pamela.

Dr. Pamela Isley: To begin, it all started with how I look. How would you describe my appearance as Poison Ivy, Doctor Chase?

Dr. Chase Meridian: (sighs) My first impression of you can be described with these words: Otherworldly, Powerful, Beautiful…  
  
Dr. Pamela Isley: (laughs)

Dr. Chase Meridian: …Insane

  
Dr. Pamela Isley: (silence)

Dr. Chase Meridian: Well, you wanted my honest opinion of you, which of course includes the good…and the bad.

Dr. Pamela Isley: Yeah, well hopefully, Chase, I may be able to convince you that I’m just as sane as you.

Dr. Chase Meridian: (snorts)

Dr. Pamela Isley: Anyways, where was I? Oh yes, my appearance. Although I am beautiful, I was actually average. Freckles on my face. Chubby. Naïve.

Dr. Chase Meridian: Well, you were a kid, Pamela. No one could blame you for being naïve.

Dr. Pamela Isley: I agree, and I think most people would say I’m still naïve, when I say that plants are living creatures.

Dr. Chase Meridian: Hmm…

Dr. Pamela Isley: In fact, I frequented the garden, often talking to them. The flowers…they tell me things. They tell me when they’re thirsty. They tell me when they’re lonely.

Dr. Chase Meridian: I see…and do you still talk to them?

Dr. Pamela Isley: (deep breath) I do talk to them within my cell, when I look out over the bars on the horizon. I’m…lonely, Chase. I have nobody. I need…friends.

Dr. Chase Meridian: Well, I can be your friend, Pamela, if you’re willing to accept me.

Dr. Pamela Isley: (laughs) Sure, why not? You’re officially my friend, Chase.

Dr. Chase Meridian: Thanks, Pamela.

Dr. Pamela Isley: Anyways, I didn’t talk to plants when I was “terrorizing” Gotham. However, as a kid, I did. But my parents did not care.

Dr. Chase Meridian: Why not?

Dr. Pamela Isley: Because all they care about is their own business…and ultimately their own wealth. To them, I’m just their property, and they expected me to be married to a wealthy socialite. They believe my…talking to plants will subside as I mature.

Dr. Chase Meridian: So, aside from talking to plants, your childhood was normal?

Dr. Pamela Isley: Yes. Just a kid living in her own fantasy, during her own childhood.

Dr. Chase Meridian: How about your mom? What was she like?

Dr. Pamela Isley: She encourages my fantasy. Unlike my dad, she was less of a realist and more of a dreamer, and perhaps she saw a bit of herself in me, hence her support.

Dr. Chase Meridian: Did she talked about anything else?

Dr. Pamela Isley: She loves to sew. As a child, I’m not too attracted towards it, but I indulge her interest and eventually learned to make my own clothing.

Dr. Chase Meridian: Did you make your Poison Ivy costume? I hear they’re really beautiful.

Dr. Pamela Isley: Yeah, I did. I guess my minor in Fashion Design did help contribute towards my artistic vision. Also, they may be beautiful, but I heard the wearer looks like a goddess. (laughs)

Dr. Chase Meridian: (laughs) I’m sure she is. Only a goddess can create such ethereal looks.

Dr. Pamela Isley: My dad, on the other hand, hardly interacts with me.

Dr. Chase Meridian: On the rare moments of interaction, what did you talk about with him?

Dr. Pamela Isley: He asks about my studies, and my sewing session with my mom. He asks about my health.

Dr. Chase Meridian: Anything else?

Dr. Pamela Isley: Nothing. I’m just an item to him, an opportunity for more wealth within the Isley family.

Dr. Chase Meridian: Surely, he’s just busy–.

Dr. Pamela Isley: Trust me, Chase. Don’t defend him. He’s not worth it.

Dr. Chase Meridian: Alright, well I guess we’ll stop here. I think our first session is quite productive, don’t you think?

Dr. Pamela Isley: I agree, Chase. And again, thank you.

Dr. Chase Meridian: For what?

Dr. Pamela Isley: Thank you for being my friend.

(tape ends)

* * *

Within the corner of Ivy’s eyes, Chase could see tears flowing. She wanted to hug her, to comfort her and convince her of an optimistic future. Yet, she had to remain professional, as Ivy was technically her client.

“I’ll let you finish crying, and when you’re ready, I’ll let the guards in.”

Ivy looks up, giving a grateful smile to Chase. For the first time, Ivy did not mind being weak in front of her.

“Thank you, Chase.”

Chase nods, giving an understanding look on her face.

“Take your time, Ivy.”

The two women sat, as Ivy dried her tears up.

“Thank you for letting me maintain my image in Arkham, Chase.”

“Of course, Ivy. Before I call the guards back in, any reasonable requests you want to suggest?”

Ivy ponders for a second, before a possible request crosses her mind.

“Is it possible to have female guards? I think it may be a bit inappropriate for male guards to look at me at my most…private moments.”

“Hmm…that seems reasonable. I’ll forward your request to the Warden, who I think will likely authorize it. However, for the female guards, it may not be instant, but eventually you will have them.”

“I understand, Chase. Thank you.”

Chase gives another subtle nod, and called for the guards. The two guards came in, cuffed Ivy’s hands. Ivy stands up, confident, and walks seductively. On her way out the door, Ivy turns back, and gives a wink to Chase.

Chase smiles. _Looks like today’s a success!_

Chase then walks out the door, ready to deliver her first interview progress and Ivy’s request to the Warden.

* * *

Outside a nightclub, two women were having a break: a blonde-curled woman and a raven-haired woman.

The blonde was wearing a white corset, a white feather scarf, white thigh high stockings with a while garter belt, and complete with white high heels. Meanwhile, the raven-haired woman–well, black and purple hair–was wearing a black leather bustier with fishnet stockings, has tattoos, and carries a whip.

The blonde reads a newspaper, her eyes furtively searching for something. The raven-haired woman smokes, looking at the sunrise, amidst the tall skyscrapers.

“Anything, sugar?”

“Nah, hon. So far, I don’t see it. Hopefully, her plan worked.”

“It will work, dear. It’s her game, after all.”

“I know, I know, but so far, there’s noth—”

The blonde’s eyes widen, finding her intended target.

“FOUND IT!”

The raven-haired woman walks over to the blonde, looking at what the blonde saw.

Within a small box on the right of the newspaper page, an advertisement read:

**Wanted! Arkham Asylum seeking women with experience in security!**

**If interested, please contact…**

Before reading the rest of the advertisement, the blonde grabs the newspaper with one hand, and with her other hand grabs the raven-haired woman’s hand.

“Where are we going?”

“To find a phone booth. It’s time to serve the Goddess!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please give kudos and comments.
> 
> (2020.06.16 Update: I've been a bit depressed, but I will continue the story. Hopefully I can get the next chapter out soon, as I do have a plan. Thanks for the support! :D )

**Author's Note:**

> Please give kudos and comments! :D


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